


beauty in the ugly

by goldenheartprincess



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: DEATH OBVIOUSLY, F/F, F/M, LET ME TELL YOU, LOTS OF EATING DISORDER STUFF IN HERE, maybe rape mentions coming, suicide talk, this is angst, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheartprincess/pseuds/goldenheartprincess
Summary: Inspired by an anonymous headcanon, McNamara and Duke feel a new kind of guilt when Chandler dies without knowing the truth, when it's them who don't know the truth.





	1. Chapter 1

"It's almost wrong to meet without her," McNamara whispered, wide doe-eyes aimed at the emerald drapes across the room. "Like, we're breaking some kind of law."

   "There's no law that says two Heathers can't meet without a third one." Duke laughed, closing the drapes fiercely as she sat across from the blonde. "Or a Veronica, for that matter. But we simply have to discuss if she's worth inviting to the group."

   "She seems nice enough." The other nodded. "She's very beautiful. Heather's right- she has a strong bone structure." 

   "Big bones, to say the least." Duke rolled her eyes, leaning back across her olive sofa. "Maybe I should enlist her on the Duke-Diet."

   Mcnamara whimpered. She hated the constant smell of vomit and the way that Duke's skin slowly faded to a pale, sallow white. She wanted nothing more than to spend one lunch period, digesting food with her friends as they didn't rush to the bathroom with drugstore laxatives hidden in their palms. She'd rather have Heather's palm hidden in hers. "Or we could get you off of it." She muttered under her breath, afraid of being heard.

   "What was that?" Duke snapped.

   McNamara swallowed. This was Heather, the frail one who trailed behind the others when the sidewalk didn't have enough space. She wasn't scary. She wasn't red or fierce. "Or we could get you off of it." She repeated with just enough breath to be audible. "Have you ever considered that?"

   "And why would I ever want to give up my body?" Duke was blinded by mirrors and saw curves and fat that could almost be an hourglass if she skipped one more meal. McNamara never saw that. She saw poking ribcages and meatless bones. Duke wasn't there yet- but McNamara never wanted to see her best friend get that far in her 'incredible weight-loss journey'. "I'm hot, Heather. Just because you're jealous-"

   "I'm not jealous." McNamara was quick to defend herself as her face lit up with concern and blush. "I'm worried. I'm terrified. I haven't ever spoken up about it because Heather's always around to make you feel bad enough and I didn't want to make you feel worse. But you feel bad because you have a disorder, Heather. And there are cures and stuff out there now, but your pointer finger isn't a cure for anything except living."

   Duke was silent, her features more ghastly than usual. "Do you really believe all of that?"

   "Of course I believe it all," McNamara replied. "I believe that you are far stronger than you think and that you are slowly killing yourself and I believe that I don't want to live in a world without you. I believe that your pouch of fat on your stomach is what holds your organs that gives you a life to spend shopping and eating chicken wings. I believe that when your thighs smush against your chair, they are temples in the mountains and you are the goddess that inhabits them. I believe that you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life, and I don't want that to go away just because you think you deserve to go away."

   And with the final words falling from McNamara's lips, Duke took the opportunity to give the blonde a gentle kiss. There was a certain kindness that she didn't know the green girl possessed, and that's what made her hungry for more. Lips against lips and hands along legs and fingertips upon skin marked the beginning of a new dawn, of a new era for the pair. They found solace on the sierra sofa, entangled in each other's arms.

   "What was that for?" McNamara breathed, caught under Duke's embrace and confused by a whirlwind of excitement and guilt. 

   Duke smirked, biting her lower lip. "Seeing the beauty in something ugly."

   McNamara gasped, her fingers still twisted in the brunette's hair. "What are we going to tell Chandler?"

   "What do you mean, 'what are we going to tell Chandler'?" Duke sat up, pushing off of the couch and onto her birch coffee table. "Nothing. We are going to tell her nothing. God, can you imagine?"

   "Yeah, I can imagine our best friend being happy for us." McNamara raised a perfectly neat eyebrow. "What are you imagining?"

   "I'm imagining the constant jabs we'll get from her." She replied. "About how it's funny my lips can be used for something other than puking. Or how her innocent flowery daffodil friend is a whore."

   "We just kissed, it's not a big deal." McNamara shrugged, sitting upright. "Unless you felt something more too."

   "Too?" Duke screeched, panicking. She began to pace around the living room, still feeling pale lip gloss stain her lips. It burned, as a constant reminder of her mistakes. The kiss was electric and fizzled out too fast. "So you feel something?" Feeling was dumb, she thought. Feeling anything led to disaster.

   "I think I have for a while." McNamara mused over her own jumbled mess of emotions. "So, yeah, if you're willing, I'd like to give us a try. Why don't we go out sometime or something?"

   "Slow down!" Duke pleaded. "What do you mean you 'have for a while'? What do you see in me? I mean, you think I'm pretty, we've been over that, but you can't build a relationship off of who's pretty. If that was the case, I'd be married to Kurt Kelly." 

   "Wait, Kurt's my ex."

   "I'm aware. Answer the question."

   "You're tough. You're like a rock, but you know that rocks can be weathered down by enough water. So you act tough, but you need people. People who don't need anyone aren't people I let kiss me. I'm bad with words, Heather, but I really like you. I like the way that you giggle when someone says something slightly dirty. I like the way that you scuff your feet into the ground when you feel ignored. And I like the way that you don't let yourself be ignored."

   "So you like me?"

   McNamara sighed. "Is there any other way for me to say yes?"

   "You could kiss me again." Duke flushed, her gaze falling to the floor as her feet managed to stay still for a moment, just long enough for McNamara to stand up and wrap her hands around her forest green waist and press her soft pink lips against Duke's. They fit perfectly together, like a puzzle that you thought you lost the piece to.

   McNamara pulled away after a satisfying moment. "How was that?"

   "Wow, you really like me." Duke sighed breathlessly. "I'm in, then. Let's go out sometime. But let's still not tell Chandler. There's no way she'd be okay with it. Think about it: a power couple of hot girls would topple the popularity pyramid she's worked so hard to stay on top of. She'd destroy us."

   "So it's not just not telling Chandler, we can't tell anybody?" McNamara wasn't thrilled with the idea of sneaking around. "What about Veronica? She totally doesn't care about popularity. She probably afraid of getting on our bad side, because we'd rip her down just as fast as we built her up."

   Duke paused for a moment, considering the proposal. "Fine. We tell Veronica. But that's it. I don't want to risk this. I don't want to risk losing this."

   "That was gay." McNamara chuckled, retreating back onto the couch with Duke's hand trailing behind her. She pulled the girl next to her, as they spent the night cuddling with brief breaks of passionate kisses.

   "Wait, you mean that you weren't dating before?" Veronica gaped at the pair the next morning, as they told her the news while Chandler was collecting the lunchtime poll. 

   "Yes!" Duke shrieked, panicked that they would end up being too obvious. "We just started dating this weekend. And Heather can't know, so nobody can know."

   "What happens if you get asked out or something? You're not going to be able to say yes, but it'll be suspicious if you decline too many times." Veronica pointed out, addressing problems that they never considered. "And when are you going to see each other without Chandler being around? She has nothing to do without you."

   "She has you now!" McNamara reminded the group. "You can spend time with her so Heather and I can be together. You'll do that for us, right?"

   Veronica's eyes wandered off to the scarlet queen, who was flirting with Ram Sweeney until he answered whatever dumbass question she chose today. It was a disgusting sight, and Veronica detested nobody else in the world as much as Heather Chandler. "Yeah, totally." She grimaced, promising to be best friends with the world's biggest bitch. "I can do that."

   "What about getting asked out?" McNamara asked. "Kurt's been looking at me a lot lately and I think he wants to get back together."

   "Even if we weren't dating, I wouldn't let you say yes." Duke snorted, recalling their unhealthy and toxic relationship. Of course, Heather deserved so much better, but Duke knew she didn't see that. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

   "She's coming," Veronica whispered, sipping her chocolate milk as Chandler took her seat across from the girl in blue. "Hey, Heather." She grinned with a faux smile.

   "Hey." Chandler was uninterested in small talk, as she was just invited to one of the biggest parties all year. "Ram Sweeney's homecoming party is tonight and we will all be in attendance, got it?"

   "Ooh, that's always a ton of fun!" McNamara cheered, hoping that if they got lucky, Chandler would end up in a bedroom somewhere so she could end up in a closet with Duke. "Veronica, have you ever gone to a party before?"

   Veronica rolled her eyes. "Only if you consider a tea party with Betty Finn in first grade a party. Which I totally do. It was a lot of fun."

   "You're hilarious!" Chandler cackled, as Veronica's face fell. "We'll totally help you get ready tonight. Who knows, maybe Trenchie will be there." 'Trenchie' had grown to be one of Chandler's favorite nicknames for the boy Veronica knew as Jason Dean. He was brooding and mysterious, and absolutely irresistible to Veronica.

   "One can hope." Veronica sighed, knowing how unlikely it was for a Baudelaire-quoting badass to go to the linebacker's homecoming party. 

   While Jason opted out of the party he was likely invited to, Chandler had an array of jokes to make when he arrived at the 7/11 where they stopped to get corn nuts. "Okay, girls!" Chandler cheered as she pulled into Ram's driveway. Lights flickered and music blasted from inside the house, as scantily clad high school girls danced against boys with plans to do far more adult things. "Let's party."

   The moment that the Heathers step into a party, the atmosphere changes. The DJ forgets to play music, and all eyes turn to the lady in red. Her fierce gaze melted the crowd, shocking junior newcomers with her presence. One junior, towards the front of the room, made the unforgivable mistake of wearing a crimson romper. While Duke considered the romper to be the bigger mistake, the entire room knew otherwise.

   When Chandler's eyes landed on her prey, prayers went out to thank the Lord that they weren't the target of the demon queen. "What's your name?" She demanded to know.

   "Kelsey." The girl managed to reply, shocked to be addressed by royalty. "Which Heather are you?"

   Chander stepped back, gasping as the room echoed with "oohs" and "ahhs". "The one that you'll see repeatedly in your nightmares and your traumatic flashbacks to this night. Heather, get me a beer!" 

   "Yes, Heather!" McNamara fetched her a can with a mischievous grin, excited to see where the night would lead already. There was a certain feeling of power and adrenaline that McNamara could never get enough of. It felt so good to be so bad.

   "Let this be a reminder, Kelsey." Chandler smiled almost demonically, leaning down towards the girl with poison on her breath. "To never, ever, wear red again." Beer trickled out of the can and onto Kelsey's outfit, dying it a revolting brown. It'd be a bitch to get out, as Kelsey's tears helped set the stain. After the can was empty, Chandler tossed it at the girl's face, as if she was the scum of the earth. 

   "Au revoir!" Chandler waved goodbye as Kelsey fled from the scene, no friends willing to go after her. No friendship was worth the wrath of Heather Chandler. "Now," Heather turned back to the party, pleased with her first act of chaos of the night. "where's the goddamn keg?"

   And with that, the party jumped back into action, as Kelsey's friends forgot they had invited a fifth person to spend the night dancing with. "Dear God," Duke shook her head, making her way to the kitchen. She was in desperate need of a drink. "Please, let Heather Chandler drop dead."

   She heard the bass drop from the other room as tequila coated her throat.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather and Heather discover horrible news and deal with it in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: more eating disorder, suicide/murder (you know how this works), um sex mention, sort of rape implied (in Heather's note idk). Angstttttt  
> also idk why the formatting is so weird????

"I'm sorry, what?" McNamara repeated into her phone, tapping against the gray plastic covering with freshly manicured marigold nails. "No, I understand what you're saying Mrs. Chandler, I just find it really hard to believe. I'm one of- was one of- her best friends in the world. She was happy."

"You and Heather are invited to come over and read the note around three if you're up for it." Mrs. Chandler sniffed on the other side of the phone. "Maybe go through her room a bit. Harold and I aren't ready yet, and we feel as if you girls might decipher Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads better than we can."

"Yeah, sure thing," McNamara whispered. "She's really gone?"

"She really is." McNamara heard a faint cry before the line disconnected, and she was left alone with her thoughts.

To think, Chandler was alive and happy yesterday. She was doing what she loved; boys and bullying. She was the shining star, an anchor in McNamara's life. And she was gone. Forever. There was no chance to say goodbye or that her friends were starting a life together. There was nothing left. Just a disconnected phone line.

A ring startled McNamara as it seemed to echo. "Hello?" She picked up the phone, thankful that whoever was on the other line couldn't see her puffy red eyes. How long had she been crying?

"Hey." Duke's familiar warm tones greeted her. "Did Mrs. Chandler call you already? We just got off the line."

"Yeah. She said I was the first one she called." McNamara replied. "Usually, I'd be honored, but I just... God, this sucks. Sucks. It sucks."

Duke bit her lip, holding back her disagreements. "Yeah." She blindly agreed. "It sucks." In all honesty, Duke had never felt freer. Her stomach was growling and once she got off the phone with Mcnamara, she had every plan to feed it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," McNamara confessed. "I'm pretty tired and just want to be alone. I might take a nap."

"Sweet dreams, Heather." Duke wished her before the line disconnected. Hearing how upset her girlfriend swirled a new storm of guilt inside of her. She swallowed heavily and took out the dusty Bible from under her bed. She tapped her thin fingers along the spine, before opening it to a random page.

"For those who are evil will be destroyed, but those who hope in the Lord will inherit the land." She read aloud from a chapter in Psalm. At the base of her bed, she propped the Bible up and sat on her knees with neatly folded hands, just like she did when she was younger. Once she got to middle school and saw how cruel the world was, she believed there could be no God. Why would a God curse her with a friend like Heather Chandler?

But last night... she saw no coincidence between her request for Heather's death and the events from this morning. God listened. He told Heather to take a sip of Drain-o. He granted Duke her wish. And she couldn't have been happier.

That wasn't quite true.

"Dear Jesus," She closed her eyes tightly and spoke to him. "I believe in you now. It shouldn't have taken me so long, but you listened. So give me the land. Give me her power. I'll wield it better. Give me her scrunchie. But please, let Heather see her evil ways. Let Heather see the evil. I can't rule with joy and trust in you if my girlfriend is sad. Also, I have a girlfriend. But you're cool with that, right? Right. So thanks for fucking Heather Chandler up the ass and granting me freedom. In your holy name, Amen."

So this was it. This was how Heather Chandler felt every day before she died. Duke thought 'suicide' was a strong word. She probably drunkenly scribbled out her feelings and downed a glass without thinking. It was a drunken mistake. There was no way that demons had enough emotions to actually want to die.

At three o'clock sharp, McNamara straightened out her skirt before ringing the doorbell. She hadn't applied fresh makeup, so eyeliner was just smudged under her eyes. Her hair was thrown back into a low ponytail. She felt if it went any higher, it would have been disrespectful to Heather Chandler herself. Just standing on the porch made her almost burst into tears.

It was Louise, Heather's mother, who opened the door. The moment she saw a living teenage girl, she broke down into tears. They shared the same name and the same mane of blonde curls. McNamara wrapped the grieving mother into a hug and let her own tears roll down her cheek. "I know." was all she could whisper into her ear. It wasn't okay. Chandler wasn't in a better place. McNamara lied often, but she wouldn't dare lie about this.

"Thank you so much for coming." Louise sniffled, letting the girl in. Duke was walking up the pathway as they spoke. She wore a comfortable white blouse with jeans, sporting a green bandana wrapped like a headband. It was too soon to wear red, but come Monday, she would wear nothing else.

"Thanks for inviting us." Duke smiled solemnly, pretending to be as distressed as possible. She was ambitious, yes, but she wasn't cruel. "How are you holding up?"

"I am." Lousie chuckled, closing the door behind the girls. "You know where Heather's room is. Just dig through, take what you want. Let me know if you find anything truly meaningful or that Harold and I should have."

"We will," McNamara promised as the friends climbed the banister and entered Chander's old room. It was haunting, knowing that the bed was cold. McNamara jumped as she saw a spot of blue on the carpet. "It's the drain cleaner." She breathed, pointing it out. This was the room where she killed herself. The Bell Jar sat on her nightstand, with a notepad resting on top of it. There, in blood red ink, laid the final message of Heather Chandler.

"Dear world," Duke read, carefully handling the notepad. "Believe it or not, I knew about fear and the way loneliness stung. I hid behind smiles and hot clothes learned to kiss girls until the feelings faded away. But the world held me down. No one thinks that a pretty girl has feelings. No one thinks she's insecure. No one sees the me inside of me."

McNamara, sitting on the edge of the bed that Chandler once sat at as she chugged poison, began to cry. She tried to see the good in people, always and didn't see the bad. She didn't see the pain. She didn't see the Heather inside of Heather. "It's going to be okay," Duke told her, sitting next to her. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Yeah," Mcnamara nodded. "I want to know who she was."

"They couldn't see past my popularity. They wouldn't dare look in my eyes, but just underneath was a terrified girl. Every night, I would cry and cling tightly to my pillow. I would sob, rocking back and forth, thinking about how my looks were trapping me from being normal. My beauty left me a myriad of scars." Duke read, swallowing back guilt. She shouldn't be so happy. That Heather suffered. That she was gone. But she was thrilled. Westerberg could finally be a happy place. "Nobody thinks that I had substance, but that's just the curse of popularity. I'm more than a sex toy or a fuckdoll. I'm more than a pair of lips, legs, and breasts. Nobody saw that. Nobody saw the me inside of me."

"God, I can't believe it." McNamara sniffled as Duke held her close. "She was so fucking sad."

"She was kind too," Duke said, reading ahead. This didn't add up. Heather Chandler wasn't kind. "She said, 'Box up my clothing for Goodwill and give away my car. Give away everything. All my televisions and shoes and accessories. Give them to those who need them.' She was so kind." This was unbelievable.

McNamara was just as shocked. Could there be goodness in death? "What else does it say?"

"I weep for all I failed to be, but maybe I can still help you, world. Maybe by leaving, you can finally be a good place. Westerburg can be a nice place now. Goodbye. Thanks for finally seeing the me inside of me. XOXO, Heather Chandler." Duke finished, putting the note down.

"This is too much." McNamara decided, wiggling out of Duke's warm embrace and fleeing from the room. "Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Chandler, but I have to go. I can't handle this right now."

"Would you like some herbal tea or something to calm you?" Louise offered, holding up a white mug. "We're in the same place, Heather. We can grieve together."

McNamara felt her stomach bubble as her eyes stayed glued to the mug. That's the sort of cup that Heather probably drank out of. It was a normal cup. A cup killed her best friend. Her best friend was dead. "No, I have to go." She ran out of the room and sat in the front seat of her yellow Buggy for a moment. She rocked back and forth as she cried, willing herself not to throw up.

Heather Duke stood outside, watching as McNamara drove away. She couldn't drive. She couldn't convince herself to operate a car. So she walked. There was a park nearby, for all the nannies to bring the rich brats to. Once Duke arrived, it cleared. Heathers were not welcome in public spaces. Especially not when they're upset. When one of them is dead.

Duke sat on one of the swing sets, watching the vacant playground. She used to come here with Heather all the time. Just the two of them. They used to be friends. "Dear Jesus." She found herself saying. "I'd like to call in a favor. I'd like to talk to Heather Chandler. Maybe you could connect me to a landline in hell. Sorry, that probably wasn't funny. But let's be real, she's not up there with you."

"Excuse you, bitch, but I could have been if I wanted to."

Duke's eyes widened as she turned to the once empty seat next to her. White skin and bones had a thin night dress veiled over them, and a wicked smile grew from her red stained lips to her cheekbones. "Shocked?" Chandler cackled, a red bow sitting atop her beautiful head. "You should be. I'm dead."

"I just wanted to talk to you," Duke muttered, kicking around mulch. "I didn't want you to talk back."

"Afraid of what I would say?" Chandler licked her teeth. "Afraid of how I would rip you to shreds? You were right to be afraid."

"Were you afraid?" Duke asked, looking into Chandler's dead shark-eyes. They were blank and milky.

"I was terrified," Chandler admitted. "Of living. Of being alive. But I was more terrified of death. Which is why I didn't kill myself."

"Yes, you did." Duke stood up, shaking as she backed away. "You're dead."

"I didn't say I was alive." Chandler snarled, stepping towards the living girl. "Let me tell you a secret, Duke. I was murdered."

"By who?"

"By you!" Chandler ran forward, lunging at Duke with her skeletal fingers itching to wrap around her throat, until she disappeared into thin air, mid-jump. She was gone. She was gone. McNamara was right, she was gone.

"Honey?" Louise Chandler fanned Duke's face as she came to. "Have you eaten today?"

"N-No, I guess I forgot," Duke mumbled, trying to ignore the layer of sweat built up on her skin. "I was going to after I got off the phone with Heather, but I just felt sick."

"I'm going to make you some macaroni and cheese, how's that?" Louise smiled, passing Duke a glass of water. "Drink up, it'll help you."

"What happened?" Duke sat up to drink as she calculated the number of calories in a serving of homemade mac and cheese. She saw Heather Chandler sitting, in her nightgown, on the edge of the calculator in her mind. Chandler was laughing. She laughed harder and harder as every number appeared. Duke erased the calculator. She was going to eat three bowls with extra fucking cheese. No ghost could tell her otherwise.

Louise swallowed. "After Heather left, you started crying too and then you fainted. Have you eaten anything over the past few days?"

"Mrs. Chandler, I haven't eaten anything over the past few months that's stayed in my system," Duke confessed, holding back tears. "I'd like that to change. I'd like the mac and cheese a lot."

"Does this have anything to do with my daughter?" Louise whispered.

"It has everything to do with your daughter."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lousie and Harold just sound like rich white people names.  
> Sorry about making you feel things.  
> *whispers* give me comments and kudos and ill make you feel more things

**Author's Note:**

> imagine if i... finished this....  
> \- goldenheartprincess, 7/27/18


End file.
